A Top's Eye VIew.
I hope this will be fun, funny, complicated, opinionated and occasionally irritating. Say what you will. Agree, disagree, complain, rant, rave. It's fine. If I say something that offends you, go somewhere else. If you agree with me or any of my musings, please share this with your lifestyle compatriots.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

(NOTE: This scene took place almost two and a half weeks ago. I’m describing this from memory, since I haven’t really had the chance to write it out until now. Two days after Lizzie left town I got notified my mother was on her deathbed and I had to quickly get to see her before she passed. Unfortunately she died less than three hours after I arrived. I stayed for almost a week to coordinate the memorial service then learned that the day after I would have to fly for business to the Middle East. So it’s been a long, complicated couple of weeks.)

It was a wonderful surprise when Lizzie told me she was coming to Los Angeles to visit some friends from her college days who had recently moved out here. I was excited to see her on my turf. We didn’t so much make arrangements as we did just assume we’d be going to the Lair together while she was out visiting. We even took some time to do a little sightseeing, this being her visit to L.A. and all.

Saturday night I drove to her friends’ place—they were well aware of Lizzie’s, um, predilections, and decided to tag along on our trip to the Lair de Sade. We all ate dinner together at a fantastic steak house, getting to know one another before driving up to North Hollywood to the dungeon. Once we were there, Lizzie and her friend changed (well, Lizzie just removed a lace shawl-like cover-up and ruffled black skirt), both suddenly much more fetish-dressed. Lizzie wore a sexy white corset and black super short-short leather shorts and heels.

I showed the three around the Lair, going from room to room, space to space. We were there at opening, so the place was still pretty empty, but they got the lay of the land. We sat out on the patio for a while talking, enjoying the warm August evening air.

Finally, it was time to play and I grabbed my roll-along bag of implements and Lizzie and I went into the main room. I pulled over a padded saw horse (I wish I knew of a better name for these) and lined it up, then moved to a wooden X, laid out my implements and brought Lizzie over.

We started with some OTK on an ottoman next to where we were going to play. I had brought over a few paddles and soon I was spanking her both with my hand as well the paddles, using the little Black Hornet on her she hates so much because of how stingy it is. I have this “bad habit” of using that implement in one spot, again and again, over and over, not moving from that spot, until the pain wells up and becomes almost unbearable. I love it. I took her shorts off and spanked her a while longer.

After doing this for a while it was time to move on. We got up, and slowly I put the restraints on her wrists, careful to tighten them, then moved her onto the cross, clipping the restraints to the eye bolts and pushing her against the cold wood. My more whippy implements came out then, a dragon’s tail, devil’s tail, a riding crop.

I unfastened the corset one fastener at a time until it was loose, then gently pulled it off Lizzie, setting it aside. I worked her back with a few more implements, then set to caning her all over with a small, light wooden cane I used to wake up her skin from head to toe. I unfastened her, turned her around, and caned her front side and breasts. Using a larger cane, I caned her breasts in only three strokes per, marking them. On her left breast an angry red welt came up, blood just under the surface. Lizzie whimpered from the strokes.

I turned her back around again and restrained her once more, bringing out a thick, smooth, laminated cane that is flat rather than round and set to making some sharp marks along her bottom and the back of each leg (and if those bruises are still there by Shadow Lane I won’t be surprised).

Something happened then, something neither Lizzie nor I quite could figure out, but she sort of crashed. I’ve seen a full-body sweat break out or the person I’m playing with suddenly feeling faint, often while playing and standing, but Lizzie complained of feeling nauseous (well, to be honest, a lot worse than nauseous). I quickly took her from the cross and sat her on my lap, wrapping her in a thick furry and warm blanket. She took deep breaths, settled down and we sat there for a bit as I cradled her until she was better. She never figured out what happened, exactly.

Neither of us wanted to end the scene there. Normally I would have said that was enough, but she seemed up for it and wanted to continue and it seemed she was back to normal. Undressed, I had her put on her heels, and like I did with Beth, walked her around outside at the Lair for all to see. This time, the activity was different. For Beth it had been about humiliation and pushing. For Lizzie, it was more of a reward. She likes being seen and so it was a pleasant thing for her, a bit of a respite before continuing.

Back in the main room I thought better than to bind her back up on that X again, so we moved over to the padded sawhorse and I threw the fur blanket across it and restrained her to it, sliding my bag and implements over to our new position in the big room.

As the evening had worn on (an hour and a half or more had passed since we had started) more people had shown up and other scenes were going on around us and spectators sat in the room to watch the action.

I used all my sensation toys on Lizzie now, from Wartenberg wheels to knives to my own fingernails, scraping across her flesh from shoulders to ankles. I scratched her with devilish little implements then rubbed a fur mitt across her bare skin, then digging the bear claws on the underside of the mitt into her flesh, eliciting little screams and moans along the way.

(I was aware, briefly, of Lizzie’s friends coming into the room to watch once or twice along the way.)

I flogged her then, using my newly reacquired heavy moose flogger on her back, shoulders, bottom and legs—really packing a wallop. That flogger is so heavy it’s a cross between impact and a really heavy massage.

I disconnected her from the sawhorse, pulling her to me, and wrapping her in the blanket again, holding and rocking her as she regained her composure. We sat there for a bit in the main room, watching a few other scenes, including one of the single oddest and most interesting scenes I’ve ever witnessed, but that’s for another blog entry.

Eventually we realized how late it was getting. Our scene had gone on for a few hours and Lizzie and her friends needed to get home. I drove them back out to their place, dropping them off, and I drove back home, a long night complete and a rewarding, wonderful scene at the Lair.

It was odd and fantastic, having Lizzie at the Lair. I know her from the spanking parties. She’s read probably every entry of my blog and followed all of my scene descriptions with Erica and Beth at the Lair. I really enjoyed the opportunity to play with Lizzie there, giving her the chance to see what she had only read about or heard described. And on top of that, we had an amazing scene, even though it did have that little hiccup along the way.

Thanks Lizzie. You’re a fantastic play partner. Hope I helped make your trip to Los Angeles a memorable one.

Monday, August 29, 2011

I've been in the Middle East again for the last week where I can't access my own blog, read blogs like Erica's or other kink blogs or do simple, every day fun stuff like surf porn. Why? Because they're blocked. There's no rhyme or reason to it. Lizzie sent me a link to a kinky article and I came right up, but if I wanted to check my FetLife account it was impossible.

So I couldn't respond to comments on the blog, which probably seemed like I was ignoring them, but I wasn't. I could see in my gmail that people were commenting, but there was no way for me to post responses. So I watched my gmail box filling up with notices of Erica's blog postings, comments made on my blog and messages and friend requests on FL and had no way to deal with any of them.

So now I'm in the airport in Paris on my layover and, I guess you could say, taking care of business. Now that I'm on my way back, just in time for Shadow Lane, you can expect my party reports to start showing up in a few days!

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

The August issue of GQ had a tempting promise on the cover (see circled headline, right). "GIRLS SPANKING GIRLS (NICELY)" it claims loudly in ALLCAPS.

"Hmmm," I thought. "Girls spanking girls nicely. That's the best way to see girls spanking girls. Sounds hot." Of course, my eyes were on Mila Kunis (who's name sounds like a mildly deviant sex act all on its own--I am so gonna mila kunis that chick who helped me at Target last night. See?) so my brain was confused.

It's not like I went out of my way and bought the issue. I'll admit it: I subscribe to GQ. Why? You'll laugh. It makes me feel like a man. I think I'm fairly fashion forward, but I'm not into sports (born without the sports gene I claim) and the mere idea of subscribing to Playboy at best and Hustler at worst just feels so tawdry (and a waste of trees) and so I get my testosterone from GQ--clothes advice, hot women, some sports info, etc. Seems legit! So when the August issue arrived and there was ultra-hottie Mila Kunis on the cover, I completely missed the ALLCAPS until a friend of mine (a true spanko) pointed it out to me. Now I was curious...

So after much thumbing of pages and smelling of cologne swatches on folded glossy sheets of paper, I landed on this:

Wait. What? Okay, yes. Two women: check. Semi-OTK: check. Hairbrush implement: check. But where the spanking? This wasn't a spanking! Now I realize this is GQ and not some issue of Janus, but dammit! the cover said "GIRLS SPANKING GIRLS" First of all, that's plural. Secondly, there's no actual spanking. So I turned the double-spread to the next page, hoping (hell, expecting!) more. But no, nothing. That was it. That was it! There was no actual spanking, singular or plural. Yes, the spanking was done "NICELY", so nicely in fact that the brush never comes in actual contact with bottom!

WTF?!

I say to GQ: Lies! Tease us with your headlines behind your hermetically sealed plastic condom around your glossing pages full of watches and preppy shirts. But there were no actual GIRLS SPANKING GIRLS--NICELY or Miss Chris-style. Shame on them. Now I'll just have to take the magazine and imagine what kind of deviant sex act "mila kunis" might actually be...

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

I write about a variety of views, mostly my own. I know most of my readers don't subscribe to a D/s lifestyle per-se, but I've felt that there are lots of aspects of the D/s life that weave their way into every aspect of power exchange, BDSM and spanking. Some friends of mine, mostly from the dungeon I play at, are part of a group putting on a new conference I want to share with you all. It's called BOLD 2012. "Defining the male dominant, female submissive hetrosexual dynamic" is the tagline for the event.

The really interesting part of this event is it's not a "techniques" event (how-to) classes. It's focused on the psychology and mindset of those in the lifestyle. There's a male dominant track and a female submissive track and a third track on relationships. The male track is run by dominant heterosexual males, the female track taught by smart, outgoing submissive females. This I find very intelligent and fresh.

World-class presenters are already booked. The conference is February 17-19 2012 in Los Angeles at the Air Tel Plaza Hotel in Van Nuys, CA. Tickets are $125. Hotel packages are available.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

I have never blogged about politics, and really, I'm not now, but I gotta ask: Michele Bachmann, Ms. Tea Party, What the Fuck? She said today on Meet the Press that her comments at the Republican debate on Saturday that wives should be "submissive" to their husbands.

Now, you think I'd condone such comments, but her Biblical rhetoric really gets under my skin. When does she think we live? The 1800s? Women should be independent, free-thinking, forward-looking. Not "submissive to their husbands." Now, she backtracked today to say "submissive doesn't mean subservient." Good. I'm sure the spin doctors in the Tea Party camp had their heads spinning around like Linda Blair at her words at the debate.

Conservative Bible People are conservative bible people. If it looks like a fish, smells like a fish... I don't care what she said on TV today, you'd best believe she thinks a woman should have the slippers out and the pipe tamped when Hubby gets home. Only those high-paid spin doctors want right-leaning Americans to know that "submissive doesn't mean subservient." She went on to say that "submissive means respect." Okay, now in MY world, submissive really does mean respect. Mutual respect. Understanding and communication.

She changed the subject and turned to taxes, but to me, when I open my news RSS feed and see the word "submissive" in the news, my interest peaks up.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

I was talking to a friend of mine online tonight about how I entered the lifestyle and I said I'd been a latent sadist (which, besides being an accurate term, is a great album title for a heavy metal band). I'd most definitely had sadistic tendencies and interests when I was in my teens, seeking out fringe and underground porn (not snuff stuff, sickos!) in Hollywood from almost the day I could get away with passing as an 18 year old. There were the slick hardcore magazines in the front (this was before VHS--I know, I'm old!) and then the black & while almost-xeroxed quality stuff in the back. And that's where I went to see girls bound, gagged and being beaten in twisted BDSM porn.

Of course, I was the son of a pastor and such thoughts seemed downright dangerous to my mind. I kid you not: the idea that I could even do what I was seeing in these 'zines was simply one step away from what you only heard rumor of in snuff films. One begat the next. So...I put it away.

It came out a few times when I met my wife. I tried swatting her ass during sex a couple of times and that didn't go down well. I put it away so well, I forgot about it, but occasionally when watching a movie (or more like TV movie) that dealt with some sensational aspect of BDSM, I would find myself leaning in, getting aroused.

It wasn't until my wife of almost 23 years (at the time) came out to me as a masochist, and later a switch, that I started to "remember" my latent sadistic interests. It scared me. Concerned me. These were bad thoughts. Bad things. Bad = hell (even though I'm an atheist, these are deep-rooted black and white notions from my childhood and thus triggered...scary things).

So I sought out the professional advice of a kink-aware therapist. (Thank Jebus I live in L.A. where such a person could be found. I've thought a lot about what it would have been like to have gone to a vanilla therapist or lived somewhere out of an urban area where finding such a person would be impossible. Still, I travel each week about 60 miles to see her...) She has been a gentle and caring guide, helping me grapple with my entry into the lifestyle and realizing that my feelings--when directed toward a willing, wanting and trusting participant of course--aren't lunatic.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Beth and I had the opportunity to play at the Lair again. Our last scene had a hiccup or two, mostly out of some miscommunication and assumptions on our parts, so I think both of us had some trepidation going into the scene that neither of us had shared. Beth was nervous at dinner. Generally, she is always a bit nervous. She mindfucks the scene before it begins, IMHO. But I like it. It's part of the dynamic. I tweak her and she gets nervous.

We arrived to the Lair when they opened so we could be sure to get our usual spot in the room off the kitchen. I had asked Beth to wear a particular outfit. I'd just come back from a business trip and had seen Suckerpunch on the plane. I was hoping for a little Babydoll action. Beth obliged, wearing a short, tight black skirt, knee-high grey socks, a simple white blouse and a red sweater. The ensemble was finished off with her hair in pony tails and matching red lip stain and high heel fuck-me pumps. Very school girl. When I added the wrist and ankle restraints we both were pleasantly surprised at how they matched her outfit. (Like we planned it that way...)

The inspiration...

Beth began stalling from the moment we got in the place. After setting up for our scene she continued her stall tactics until I grabbed her firmly by the wrist and brought her over my lap. We had an audience from the start and while Beth gave her usual sassy banter, there would be comments from the peanut gallery about how I needed to resolve her bad mouth. It was damn funny. I warmed her up with my hand then moved onto my nanny paddle, the new Black Hornet paddle (it stings!) and brought her to a lovely rosy red.

It was time to move on. Beth always knows that when she's up off my lap and forced to stand bent over with her hands on the bench that things are going to be amped up, and they were. I undressed her, to get exposure to her flesh. I used my new whip on her, licking her flesh with the leather tail, leaving delicious marks across her backside and the base of her back. I used my dragon's tail, then began caning her all over with my thin wood cane, going from neck to heel, then turned her around and did the same on the front side. We'd toyed with the notion of breast torture, but had done very timid steps in that direction in the past. Tonight was the night to amp it up. I carefully caned her breasts, belly, then down the front of each leg.

I turned her back around, using my thick wood cane (not my Canemore, but a laminated, flatter--and thus, thuddier--cane) on her back side. As I was slowly ramping up the impact, her hands kept moving back to try to cover her bottom, as Beth always does. I began threatening her with restraint, something she really does not want (okay, she does, but you know). Paddles came into play and then I brought out my carbon fiber cane and really welted up the back of each leg rather nicely.

I moved on to floggers, pulling out my heavy suede moose flogger, a highly impactful flogger that almost knocks the wind out of you. I flogged her back and bottom rather fiercely. Skin awakened and sensitized I brought out the sensation play implements: fur mitt, Wartenberg wheels and other pokey things. Beth hates/loves my knives and when I run them across her skin she wails out as if I'm splitting her in two. Tonight was no exception.

She was getting very antsy, hands coming back to cover her bottom again and again, so I figured it was time to move her to the padded table where she could lie there and if she kept moving her hands back I could restrain her to the bolts built into the sides of the table. Almost as soon as she was down, her hands were flying back to cover her ass. I threatened to restrain her and warned her each time she had two more warnings...one more warning...and then before she knew it she was restrained--and she was none too happy about it! I didn't restrain her legs (mostly because I knew she'd be kicking her legs up to try to cover her bottom when with her hands tied down and, frankly, I really wanted to smack the backs of her legs for doing so--but don't tell her I said that!). And smack I did.

The bench always indicates the start of the final act. I really ramp it up, letting loose with a barrage of hand spanks, paddles, slappers and the like. Beth was really getting in her head and annoyed at the restraints holding her hands in place. I'd look down and see she was looking over the edge of the table, eying her left hand and trying to work the caribbeaner. Unsuccessfully, I might add. She's catch me looking at her and stop, hoping she wouldn't get in trouble for attempting to "escape." Sometimes I'd call her on it and others I'd simply ignore it. When she finally slid the blanket I always put across the table to obscure her attempted handiwork I really laid into her, smacking the bejeezus out of her bottom for her subterfuge.

I brought back the cane after that, welting her more. She was nearly baked at this point, so I started to ease my way toward the obligatory conclusion: the dreaded thick leather paddle. She had only five swats coming her way, yet she was not eager to receive them. I had to quiet her down before proceeding to the five swats, and even then I went fairly moderate on those, sensing her done-ness.

Upon completion she buried her face into the blanket, her hands twisted into talons and gripping the restraints that held her in place. I held her, calmed her and slowly took the restraints off so she could wrap herself up into a little cocoon. Then she got cold. It was sudden, and she began shaking violently. She said she'd never experienced it before, so I reassured her, kept her warm and held her until she was in a better place.

It was another amazing scene.

Next time: something utterly and completely different. She has no idea what's coming but it's going to freak her out when she finally concludes what I have in store for her. But that's after Shadow Lane...

About Me

Motto: Conversio Virium (latin for "exchange of forces")
I am a MDHL (Male Dominant Het Leather) and am a proud member of the Monarchs. I am a Master and daddy to Lizzie.
I believe discipline, caring attention, focused instruction and mastery of myself and my sub are the first steps in a meaningful D/s relationship. I'm enjoy bondage, impact play, spanking, erotic humiliation, humiliation & debasing, and scenes mixing sex and delivery of pain. I feel true protocol comes from respect, trust, communication and understanding.
Because of my work and family I live the lifestyle 24/7 as best I can and am happy to have the balance I have.
I enjoy not just finding play partners but meeting new people, making new friends and appreciating the connections that come from that. The serendipity I discover in meeting great people in the scene has been a pleasant surprise.